


Making Signs

by Lothiriel84



Series: Signs [3]
Category: The Bunker (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Awkward Conversations, Background Relationships, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: When we scratch lines in the sand for only the birds to see.





	

He hobbled out of the bathroom, his head both spinning and throbbing at the same time. He felt as if he’d been thirsty for at least a century now, and he was desperate for a glass of water, or any liquid that was safe to drink, except coffee.

(He doubted he would ever dare to touch the stuff again; you never knew when an insane coffee machine would start plotting world domination, and the death of the only friends you’ve had in longer than you cared to remember.)

Dave was already up, apparently, and was stirring what looked suspiciously like instant coffee in two mugs – his favourite, and the one that had been officially picked to replace David’s. The man had grieved the loss of his favourite cup for nearly two months, until the incident with the electric kettle; there were still traces of that on Tom’s left hand and thigh, but at least David had stopped looking as if he was one second away from murdering either of them, so overall they had decided to call it a win.

“Hello, Tom,” Dave greeted him, shooting him one of his friendly smiles. Of the three of them, Dave had always been the best one at faking contentment somewhat convincingly, all the while cheerfully ignoring the fact that all their friends were dead, and they were probably trapped inside that stupid bunker for the rest of forever.

(Dave, with his pretty hair and his happy-go-lucky attitude, who had nevertheless been brave enough to follow Tom’s dream when he himself was too scared to do anything about it. For a long time he’d thought he’d be much better off without him or David, only to discover he was too much of a coward even to be left behind, in the safety of their bunker. He didn’t want to be all alone, a relic of the past slowly succumbing to madness and despair.)

He downed a glass of filtered water, poured himself another one for good measure. “How’s David?” he asked, in what he hoped could pass for a casual tone.

(His brain unhelpfully paused to consider the implications of the marks on Dave’s neck, and the fact that he was holding two mugs instead of one. _Enough with that, Thomas_ , he promptly chastised himself. _We’re all adults here, have been for over four hundred years as a matter of fact._ )

A shadow passed on Dave’s face, his expression changing to something more grim, unsettled. “As fine as he’ll ever be,” he replied, eventually. “Which is very little, I’m afraid.”

Tom nodded in agreement, watched his friend as he carried the mugs down the corridor to his room. None of them were fine, not really, David even less so; still, they were all alive, and that had to count as something.

The smell of coffee made him a little nauseous, and he slumped onto the nearest chair, groaning. If only they had any custard creams left, he sighed, and resigned himself to the usual lump of canned bread instead.


End file.
